


Banana Bread

by nanianela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Crying Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Cries During Sex, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Sex, Gentle Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Makeup-Wearing Dean Winchester, Season/Series 14, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 21:46:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18290861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanianela/pseuds/nanianela
Summary: Castiel and Dean were both like green bananas when they first started this. Dean topping, always giving. Back then, Cas had never had sex before, and Dean was more than happy to take the lead to teach him. But really, Castiel was the one teachinghim. Sex didn't have to resemble the porn Dean had been consuming for decades, and Dean's real self emerged more and more as Cas helped him un-learn. Dean thought they’d peaked then, the perfect yellow fruit... but now, they’d somehow surpassed that. They made sweet banana bread together. Better than he ever thought he’d get. Better than he knew he deserved.





	Banana Bread

**Author's Note:**

> It's been _years_ since I wrote for this ship... I really missed it! I hope you enjoy this ♡  
> Comments are love!!!

_It's for my daughter_ , Dean rehearsed the line in his head once more. _She can't get enough of these things._

His hands were starting to get clammy curled around the cardboard packaging of a tube of mascara while he waited in line at the drugstore. Claire. Yeah, that's the name he'd go with. If they asked for any details, he'd use her as his example. Blonde, sixteen, about yea heigh. Huge attitude. 

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize that one of the staff was motioning at him to use one of their several self-checkout machines. Oh, he realized. All of that fretting was for nothing, after all. 

Dean settled hunched in front of his bathroom mirror, craning his neck to watch the Youtube tutorial on his phone as he tried to follow along with the steps in his own mirror, combing the spoolie delicately through the hairs.

He didn't realize he'd been completely holding his breath until he stepped backward and took in his face in the mirror. Sure, the lashes were darker, longer, and despite how good the teen's in the video looked, he still had a bit of clumping in the middle lashes of his left eye.

Who the hell was he kidding with this?! The makeup clashed with the crows-feet wrinkles near his green eyes, the weathered spots on his skin dotted amongst his freckles. He was an older man, not some teen girl. He felt stupid, and the beauty product seemed to have the opposite effect as he felt even uglier than before. How was that possible? He felt like a fucking faggot, he thought. His teenage self that never got this kind of experimentation resurfaced in a split second. _If John found out about this-_

He swallowed thickly and curled over the sink, just staring at the silver drain for a moment and feeling the familiar prickle of arriving tears. Even after all these years, his dad's influence still haunted him. He didn't want to cry, not yet. Not under these circumstances. He needed a certain set of arms around him to let himself do that, the burning-good sensation of being stretched so full, those heavenly, gentle strokes of his. Quiet reassurances whispered into his ear.

 ** _Cas_** , his chest ached hard for a moment. Not a half a second later, he felt that perfect pressure of a hand on his shoulder, fingers that had been in unholy parts of his body squeezing in reassurance. Dean sighed in annoyance. What, every time he _thought_ of him it would transmit as a goddamn prayer?

Dean spun around, feeling like the black goop clinging to his eyelash hairs was a neon beacon on his face, anger and humiliation colliding like crosshatching waves, but the look the angel gave him calmed his waters.

"Oh-" Cas swallowed, clinging onto his clothes and holding him close. "Dean- you look-"

Dean just fought back the tears. They weren't ripe enough, release now would hardly be satisfactory.

"Make sure you keep this on for tonight." Castiel's tone was soft and sweet, but Dean loved the way it came out as an order. "You look lovely."

* * *

The Bunker was quiet during this time of night. Sam had taken Jack under his wing as his research assistant and apprentice, the two of them were hitting the books in the Library, much too far away from the bedrooms to worry about noise. After Michael's slaughter of all the others, it was especially quiet in here. A little more noise could do it some good.

Castiel removed his coat, tie, unbuttoned his shirt and draped them all neatly on Dean's desk chair, like some kind of slow, domestic strip tease that he did each night. The angel walked up to him unabashed, like he'd never worn clothes to cover up in the first place. It was the little details like this coming together that wove the story that he wasn't actually human.

"Cas-" Dean's words caught in his throat.

"You're so gorgeous," The angel breathed as he finally stood before him, Dean seated at the edge of their bed. Dean looked up the distance and the angel slipped his cheek into his palm, skimming his bottom lip with his thumb. Dean let his plush lips open slowly, teasing the fingertip with a soft amount of wet suction. His lids fluttered shut, a sudden pang of intense shame passed through him. He felt like he was acting exactly like what his dad had always warned him against.

"Even after all of these years," Castiel began quietly, and much to Dean's disliking he removed his hand. "I'm still helping you unlearn what he did to you."

"You're reading my thoughts again." Dean grumbled unhappily. "I thought we agreed on privacy upstairs."

The angel looked flustered, and jumped to explain himself as he sat down next to him. "It's sometimes hard to hold back my natural instincts- please Dean, I don't mean to- breach on your privacy-"

"It's okay," Dean chuckled and reached for his hand, sliding his calloused palms over his skin with a faint shushing noise, feeling up to his elbow and back down before clasping his hand between two of his. "Since you're up there, you'd already know I secretly like it. Not needing to say stuff out loud for you to understand. Well, sometimes."

The angel used both hands to cradle his neck before closing the gap between their faces and landing his first gentle press of his lips to Dean's. They parted with a quiet click, and Dean looked down, taking the angel's hand in his and squeezing.

Dean's gaze remained fixated on their fingers when he spoke up again. "Make love to me." His voice hushed, clamping down hard on the smaller fingers wedged between his own. "I need it- need you. Been dying for it." 

"You need release." The angel snaked his hand around the back of his neck, just the way Dean loved. "In more ways than one."

Dean nodded. "Yeah," He mumbled, he still couldn't meet his eyes.

They were both like green bananas when they first started this. Dean topping, always giving. Back then, Cas had never had sex before, and Dean was more than happy to take the lead to teach him. But really, Castiel was the one teaching _him_. Sex didn't have to resemble the porn Dean had been consuming for decades, and Dean's real self emerged more and more as Cas helped him un-learn. Dean thought they’d peaked then, the perfect yellow fruit... but now, they’d somehow surpassed that. They made sweet banana bread together. Better than he ever thought he’d get. Better than he knew he deserved.

“From behind tonight, alright?” Dean muttered when his angel covered his body with his, the pressure of his warm weight pressing him further into the foam mattress as he draped over him, he could feel the pressure between his cheeks as Cas’s hard cock nudged up against his hole, as Cas peppered drawn-out, suction kisses to his freckled shoulders.

“You know how much I love seeing your face.” The angel argued quietly, landing another noisy kiss, squeezing out lubrication to slip down his crack.

“Just—“ Dean whispered.

“Of course.” Castiel interrupted to agree, fingers sure and nimble as they circled Dean’s hole with lube, pressed in with a squish and began to twist and scissor. “If that’s what you want.”

 _Castiel,_ Dean tipped his head back and thought the name as the angel pushed the head of his cock in with a slow, blunt burn. He knew he could hear him loud and clear.

Dean let out a soft moan as he felt that familiar dick slide all the way home. He’d never had anyone else inside him like this- he’d used toys or fingered himself, after a one night stand long ago introduced him the wonders of a prostate. Back when he was selling his body, he’d suck dick for fast cash but his ass was strictly off-limits. That was what made him walk away with his straightness intact, he’d tell himself. And when he was tortured in Hell he was raped with objects, but never a body.

Cas had helped him through all of that, _everything_ , really took his time until Dean was fully ready. He was the only person Dean trusted enough to do this.That first time he'd had him inside, Dean knew he could never go back.

“That’s it,” Cas began those signature gentle strokes of his, the ones that Dean wet-dreamed about ever since he’d experienced them. “Let me bring you pleasure— take care of my human.”

Dean keened quietly. He loved when Cas talked that way— referred to the fact that he wasn’t human. _My_ , he’d said with a faint possessive growl. Dean was more than happy to be claimed by him.

“-My husband.” Cas whispered like the secret it still was, sending a wave of intense tingles down Dean’s spine and a whine to escape his lips. Normally, he’d lash right back at Cas about how they’d technically never confirmed that, hell, Sam didn’t even know about the marriage agreement they’d made off their faces one night. It was a drunken impulse, a verbal agreement and nothing more... well, until Cas brought it up again and again during their private moments like this.

“Jack’s father.” Cas continued in a quiet purr.

Damn, he knew just where to hit where it hurt, didn’t he?

It was going to be one of those nights, one where he cried as they fucked. Cried _hard_. It had been building up for a while now, every little thing piling up. Fatherhood, and feeling like he was royally fucking it up. Mom was back, and yet she’d abandoned him and Sam. Michael in his head, using his deepest thoughts and insecurities as weapons against him as they fought a war with his head as the battleground.

 Cas was skimming his thoughts. The angel reached for his human's hand and they wound together.

“Our son,” Cas repeated with such conviction that Dean shivered and gasped quietly. It was a statement that refused to be countered in any way. “Is a boy with immeasurable power. And there is no better person to help him use that power for good, to make sure it doesn’t corrupt him, than you, Dean.”

“Jack loves you so much,” Cas whispered, skimming his lips along his bare back, and Dean hiccuped involuntarily as a sob made his body jerk. “He knew even before he was born that I was his true father. I didn’t know why I was so weak as I stayed by Kelly’s side— he was siphoning grace from me. It’s _my_ grace within him. Jack even knew the two of us were connected, sense our bond. His fetus- I could read its thoughts. He’d bonded to you long before he was fully developed— Jack knew before he was born into this world that you were his dad, too.”

Dean moaned softly into the pillow beneath his cheek, his hand clamping down into a fist around the sheet. Cas was a unique lovemaker, he’d sometimes go off on monologues just like this, his voice rumbling soft and low in his throat. He’d never been influenced by all the fake shit that came from porn. He was just... himself. No walls.

Dean crumpled his face together, his breathing sticky-sounding as his saliva had already began to thicken. Cas's sure hands cupped his hip bones, pulling on him gently, impaling him on his cock with gentle thrusts. Dean whimpered softly, a stinging in his nose signaled the tears were coming soon.

" _Cas_ ," He cried out, his nose smushed up against the memory foam mattress, his open lips leaving a shiny smear, his mascara rubbing left streaks of ashy black on the sheets. He hid away his face as he hiccuped out a sob, stifled by the thick padding.

"Dean, please. This position—" The angel's voice was strained. "I dislike it. I want to see you. Look into your eyes."

"I can't," Dean rasped. Getting fucked in the ass while he cried about how his father raised him, wearing fucking makeup to boot. He couldn't show his face, not just to Cas, to let himself be seen this way was simply too much.

 _Please_ , the angel's voice came from within Dean’s head. Their nonverbal communication was no longer a one-way street, not since their bond had strengthened, and Dean had let Cas in. It had come in handy on hunts, but it was moments like these that Dean cherished speaking with thought the most. 

Cas slid out, and Dean flipped over to lay on his back slowly, lowering himself by the elbows, eyes downcast. 

“Don’t hide from me, Dean, please.” Castiel’s voice rumbled low, taking his chin gently between his forefinger and thumb as he walked with his knees and caged him with his body.

 "I'm sorry," Dean rasped, hiccuped, looking up into those deep blue eyes. "I'm sorry for hiding, Cas."

Dean needed reassurance, comfort, _now_. His first tears dripped from his eyes and streaked down his cheeks, and Cas’s lips were there to capture them before pressing gently up to Dean’s lips again, lowering him all the way down with a firm hand spread over his back. Dean tasted their salt.

“Good,” Cas encouraged him, sweetly cradling one side of his face in the curve of his palm as he lay flat beneath him. “Release, my love.”

The first time this had happened, Dean had stopped the sex right away, leapt up and hid away in his bathroom for over two hours, feeling like garbage about himself. He'd made so much progress since then.

His tears continued to stream sideways out of the corners of his eyes, chest bumping with silent sobs, and Castiel wove their fingers together so tenderly.

“Good, Dean, good.” The angel crooned again, his face hovering mere inches above Dean's, getting a shaky gasp out of him as Dean spread his thighs and wrapped them around him in invitation and the angel rolled his hips and pushed back inside as he placed his lips over Dean's.

“So much raw emotion. So beautiful.” Castiel commented softly as he pulled away with a soft click of suction. He continued to speak in staccato sentences, each accompanied by a rhythmic thrust. “You always worked so hard to hide this part of yourself. I never understood why. It’s what made me fall for you. What made me want to become human.”

“Love you, Cas.” Dean croaked with his eyes closed, that hiss of “s” so gentle in the quiet of the night. The angel got a gentle fistful of hair and Dean's head tipped back as Castiel captured his lips deeply again. 

Fuck, it felt good being taken care of like this, Dean thought, tightening his arms around his mate as the angel drove into him again and again.

“I’m close,” Cas nearly whimpered into the side of Dean's neck, his hips briefly stuttered out of rhythm. Dean's hand slipped over the warm skin to the small of his back and pressed, guiding the movements to become deep and slow again. Castiel gasped quietly, a fearful tinge to the noise that Dean was used to when they first started this, back when the angel easily became overwhelmed by the physical sensations of orgasm. 

"You're okay, baby." Dean cooed. "...You feel so damn good."

“Dean- please- my name.”

It had started on a whim, and now it had reached a point where it was ceremonial, where the angel had released to the words almost every time since Dean had first whispered them into his ear.

“Castiel Winchester.” Dean’s lips nudged the ridge of his ear, the angel’s breath caught beautifully in his throat as he emptied into Dean as the human held the back of his head close, tucked into his shoulder.

They stared at each other afterwards, huffing softly, nose to nose.

* * *

Dean was freshly showered and in his comfiest pajama sweats and cotton tee when he padded barefoot into the Library. His brother and Jack both hunched over thick volumes at the long wooden table with green reading lamps. Jack's blonde head bobbed and snapped back up as he fought off his sleepiness. Sam was statuesque, barely even blinking as he robotically flipped a page.

"Half past midnight, Sam? Really?" Dean scolded, and came up to clap his hand heartily to Jack's shoulder. "C'mon, kid. Curfew."

"Crap," Sam sucked in a breath and rubbed at his eyes, pushing his thick brown hair back and away from his face, tucking it behind both ears. "I guess time got away from us." 

"Any progress?" Dean grunted. 

"A little," Jack yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "I think I read the same paragraph five or six times, though." 

Dean chuckled at that, with these dense volumes it was known to happen. "Alright, kid. Enough dead trees for now. Off to bed. Cas is already there to tuck you in."  

Jack leapt up, happy to be dismissed and excited like a little kid by the prospect of being tucked in. 

"And _brush_ your _teeth!_ " Dean hollered after him.

"Terrible twos and teenage years all rolled into one." Sam chuckled, slipped in a bookmark, and finally shut his book with a faint snap. "Who would have thought _that_ could happen."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dean chuckled. "Now, you too, Sammy. Time to hit the hay." 

Sam smiled faintly at him, a deeply knowing look on his face. God, Dean hated that expression. It was like he could stare into his soul.

"Dean," He said softly, his voice the same infuriating  _I-know-everything_ tone. "You... seem really happy. With Cas."

Dean slipped into a seat and hung his head. Of course Sam knew about the two of them, but they didn't talk much about it. Cas filled Sam in on pretty much everything, even things he didn't want his brother to know. So why bother with reiterating?

"Yeah." Dean agreed in a quiet hush. "...We are."

To Dean's surprise, Sam's eyes had started to shine with tears. He shook his head, laughing bitterly at the swell of emotions. "I just wish— you could have been _yourself_ , earlier, I mean." Sam's hand had clenched into a fist. "He stomped that out of you. Made you hate who you are. Dad— dad was a homophobic asshole, Dean, I know you idolized him, but he was just- _so_ -"

"Hey." Dean hated to see his brother so upset, and interrupted him with a touch to his plaid-clad shoulder. "Better late than never, right?" 

"After ten years I thought you were gonna take the 'never' road." Sam teased.

"I know, I know, it took us a while." Dean chuckled. "But what me 'n Cas have, Sam... it's. Uh." Dean paused to swallow dryly. Why _didn't_ he ever talk to Sam about this? "It's good. We're good." 

 _Like banana bread,_ Dean thought about adding, but decided against it.

"G'nite, Dean." Sam stood up and met his eyes, and tipped his head to the side curiously. A cold flash passed through Dean. 

" _What?_ " Dean demanded, prickling. 

"Ehem. Um. You can use lotion." Sam said, and then indicated to underneath his own eye. "Jess used to do that when she stayed over at my place. It gets rid of makeup in a pinch, if you... don't... have remover handy." Sam slowed down toward the end of his sentence, realizing he should probably be treading this territory lightly.

"Will do," Dean grunted, his face flaring hot.  _Fuck_ , he just assumed it would have rinsed completely away in the shower. He'd have to keep that in mind for next time.


End file.
